After the Play
by Bright Ophelia
Summary: You're reaching for a slice of cheese when she asks if you're a natural blonde, not even looking up. (Part One of the 'Life Goes On' verse)


**After the Play**

**a/n:** I don't own anything, sadly. If I did, Ai would go off with Amuro and have awesome adventures where she displays her brand of humour and super-duper scientific knowledge and Amuro would get things done without being annoyingly smug about things. They'd also have shopping sprees that end with him carrying the bags.

* * *

A few days before she died, Akemi sent two texts. One for the man she loved, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with (but eventually never saw again) and one for her only friend.

The contents of these texts were slightly different but what they talked of were essentially the same; in the case that something happened to her, to look after her sister who'd be left alone with very little to protect herself (and so many wanting her for themselves, or just dead).

One did not know that the other had received a text and the other instantly had a hunch that one might have received a similar text.

The two men who received the text knew very well of each other. Their connection started long before they even knew of it (but that's a different story). They complied to her request in different ways. They took up her promise with a sense of duty, but how they accomplished the matter was up to their own methods.

_Keep her safe._

* * *

After everything, after the long days of planning and shooting and narrow escapes - it was over. The briefing, the paperwork was done with and a weary exhaustion that dragged you down and ironically kept you going led you towards your car.

_Keep her safe._

The little girl, Akemi's sister came to mind and you wondered, what to do with her. You know that by now, Akai and the FBI will have her in their custody, along with the little boy that isn't.

Was there really any point in seeking out for her? Yes, you hate Akai, but she'll be safe with him, you're sure of that.

Was there any point in your interfering?

You turned the corner and headed towards your car you parked at the end of the street. You brushed the thought of the girl away for now - you wanted to go back home, close all the doors and sleep till the end of eternity.

The white car gleamed under the street lamps and your steps quickened. You went towards the driver's seat to open the door and -

She was waiting next to your car, arms folded.

_(How she knew how to find you is another question)_

You nearly dropped the keys, and shock pulsed through you as you stood on that street corner and stared at her.

She was the same as ever; the little upward tilt of her head, unblinking stare and the small nod of acknowledgement as she assessed you (never words).

Pride or arrogance – it's a mix of the two.

You realised on the spot (along with the fact that she managed to slip under all that FBI surveillance and guarding, find out where you parked your car of all things and make her way here to wait for you) that it's her armour. You and Akai use strategies, Gin and Vermouth, bullets – and she -

She uses this; the cool facade, an unyielding mask of nonchalance that does not break, even when there's a gun pointed a her.

"Hello,"

You managed to pick up your senses and utter a single syllable.

"Yes, hello."

She knocks at the car door, and makes a motion of shall we? The streets aren't exactly the best place for a chat of any form so you opened the door for her and she stepped into the backseat. You stepped into the driver's seat and a moment later, you left that street, heading towards home with an unexpected guest.

_(Keep her safe.)_

* * *

You'll keep her safe – whatever it takes. On Akemi's part, it was a request; on yours, it's a promise and you will keep it. The little girl (who isn't) is the only one left of a whole family, their lives changed forever by the foolish aspirations of a now gone syndicate and some bad choices made a generation ago.

_Keep her safe._

The irony is, that what she spend the last year running away from was the one place she truly ever belonged to, whether she liked it or not. She may have hated it, she may have gotten used to it and felt it was a banality in her continuously monitored, molded life - but it was her. She was made and born from it, and even as she never wholly became one of them (the crease in her smooth, baby skin brow – the wonders of science, you muse, yet you do not understand why you think her shrunk form as more of a tragedy than a funny realisation of mankind's long, unfulfilled wish – formed by some nightmare she's trapped in tell you so) it's a part of her, the stain that does not come off.

You can keep her safe, from the outside forces (you have), but what lies ahead as your next task is to keep her safe from herself. But like now, as you silently watch her sleep, watching her subconscious playing out on her pale face, you can only sit and wait. You cannot save her from the vast sea of her own nightmares.

You wait, for the moment to pass. If she does wake up, she won't want any comfort or words; she'll be annoyed that you've been sitting next to her as she battled through her nightmares. She's not a child, as she likes to remind you (she refused with a strange stubbornness to take the bed you offered her and has camped out on this sofa since her first night).

She has a very subjective way of showing her independence and is protective of herself. She's much more secretive and doubting than Akemi, yet much more vulnerable in some ways. She's been through much more.

And that is why you sit next to her on some nights. There isn't much you can do, but what matters is that you do what you can do for this quiet girl (most of the hours the pair of you spend together awake are filled with blank silence). From your own experience, it's better to have some other presence near than waking up to an empty room.

So you sit next to the couch, in the dimmish light, thinking about the same things, over and over again.

Some stains never go away.

You can tell yourself that you've washed your hands clean, on sunny days and in the midst of people you've grown fond of, but not matter how hard you scrub at it, it's always there.

They're like scars. You have to learn live with them.

The girl lets out a whimper and her form goes limp. The nightmare seems to have passed for now and her breathing becomes more even. It's then, that you intervene, lifting her head gently with one arm and placing the pillow that been forgotten under it. You straighten her legs that are cramped, and she's in a proper sleeping position, not the fetal one she was in moments ago. You drape the blanket that's tangled on the floor over her and stand up to call it a night.

You leave the light on, just one small lamp. You've always had a thing for lamps but other than that, you have a feeling that she'll wake up in a few hours, before dawn. It's better to wake up in a strange room where you can see a what's near you rather than gain consciousness in the complete dark.

* * *

"He was Moroboshi Dai," she comments one evening.

You look up from the files. She doesn't look up from the laptop she's borrowed and continues to talk. You let her; your conversations are always like this, one-sided and prompt, a series of statements concerning truths that have been found out too late and confirmations of "Did you know...?", "Yes, I did."

"Akai Shuichi, Moroboshi Dai... Okiya Subaru – names... He was all of them. The same man who betrayed the organisation. And as if that wasn't enough..."

You know the rest. You told Akemi; break it off, don't trust him, he's using you, do you know that – you do? Then isn't it better to hear it from me than from anyone else?

"He's the reason she's dead. An FBI spy. Yes – they couldn't have let her live, even if she was my sister, could they? With that connection– Did she know?"

She's talking more to herself than you, checking the facts that she's been forced to face. It looks like Akai didn't reveal himself until absolutely necessary, being the coward he is. And at the end of the facts, she asks, a question. Despite being the central person in all these events, the MVP, she ends up being the last person to know.

"Yes. Towards the end. He told her himself."

"Then why didn't she break it off?"

She doesn't ask why you didn't stop Akemi – she wants to know why Akemi didn't save herself, though it wouldn't have done her much good.

She knows why of course. The question she asks isn't asking for knowledge of something she isn't aware of. It's a cry of anguish; why didn't she save herself? Why did she leave her behind?

You can't answer. You know why, too, but it sounds pathetic and silly, the worst cliche that could be given in the circumstances -

"Apparently she loved him. And he – he did too."

In the end, she answers her own questions, in a strange dismembered voice that sounds like she's quoting someone else.

"A lot of good it did her – if he, if he did, why didn't he try harder? To save her?"

The anger in her voice is broken by her own sobs and you quietly leave the room, closing the door. For a girl who sports a look of indifference all the time, it only takes a real, visceral tragedy to break her. You'd comfort her if you could but the thing is, you barely know her.

You know people connected to her; you knew her parents, her mother especially, her sister was one of the few people you could say with total honesty that she was your friend. But not her in person. She's been an image in your head; you've heard stories about her and formed your opinions through those stories.

You know how much both women, Elena and Akemi loved her. The look on their faces and the sacrifices they made, the sadness that took them when they knew they had to be parted from her, perhaps forever, told you just how much they loved her. And in those moments, you felt it, that earnest, desperate emotion, and for a few seconds in your memories, you almost loved her too, with the tenderness they possessed, though you'd never met her.

But your connections to her have only been through them, and there is nothing between you and Miyano Shiho herself. It's a flimsy thin relationship, based on mutual acquaintances and events beyond either of your control. A couple of weeks and a few conversations are the total of all your interactions; it's a relationship to build on (or may not even happen, depending on her choice).

For now, you leave her to cry on her own, to save face. It's all you can do for her, as she seeks an outlet for her own tragedy.

You sink down on the floor, on the other side of the door and leaning against it with your eyes closed. You know, exactly how she feels, you understand that, you truly do. You hate Akai just as much, if not more. You know the uselessness of Akai's excuses and you don't care if he means his apologies or actually feels remorse for his actions.

Reasons become petty excuses in the face of death, when you lose the people you care for.

What's the point of talks about inevitability and expressions of sorrow - when you can't see them anymore?

* * *

"Conan-kun came to see me today."

It's Thursday and the sky is grey. Almost black. She turns around from her stacking of newspapers and faces you. Her expression is grim, but her eyes give off a curiosity that she can't hold back.

"He asked about you."

"And?"

"I said I didn't know where you were, that I thought you were with the FBI, shouldn't they be taking care of you, etc."

As she asked. She wasn't avoiding just Akai – she seemed to have ended badly with the boy or at least had an argument. The day after the night she came with you, she specifically asked you to feign absolute ignorance should anyone - Akai, the FBI, the police and especially Edogawa Conan or her 'friends' asked about her. You had your questions but you kept them to yourself and speculated wildly.

"He just took it in?"

"This is Conan, we're talking about, Shiho-san, so naturally no."

She smiles, despite herself and ties the stack of newspapers together. Your sister's old cardigan is slightly big for her at this age but she doesn't mind; it's the most worn item of clothing out of the batch you've found for her in your old storage boxes.

"I expected as much. So what did you say?"

"The same thing. Over and over again. Do you know I made up a list of things to say and fabricated a scenario to quote from and stick to should any of the people you mentioned ask me what Conan-kun did?"

"How very thoughtful of you," she moves the stack of newspapers to one side and starts on the magazines, "Your training, I suppose. Does Mr. Holmes still suspect you?"

"Probably. He'll be guessing my motives now with some frustration as I accidentally smashed one of his bugs and misled him and a couple of FBI attempts to follow me."

"So that's why you were late the other evening."

Akai knows she's with you. You saw him on the other side of the train platform a few days back. Currently, he's not doing anything, as he knows the reason for her avoiding him. Guilt stops him as well as his respect for her choice.

And he, like you had before, at least knows that you won't harm her.

_(He doesn't know Akemi sent you a text or that you knew the mother of the sisters)_

"He lied to me."

She suddenly speaks up, as if announcing something. You wonder who she's talking about and you realise it must be Conan.

"If you call not telling the truth, lying."

"It's controversial. But it's mostly regarded as a form of lying."

She smiles humourlessly, "He knew kept talking about Akai Shuichi, Akai Shuichi a while before all this happened. I thought that a detective who listened to a child, who no matter how smart he may be, was very open minded. I wanted to meet him. I didn't know why he was so taken aback."

She sighs and goes on.

"He knew all this time. But he never told me. He should have. It wouldn't have made me feel any better, and I know he meant for the best – but he should have told me. Not left me to find out for myself in dire circumstances."

Her voice is full of hurt and you realise that she trusted the boy far more than she herself thought she did. Not telling is a form of betrayal, you know this from experience. Being the last person to find out is upsetting and the feeling of stupidity and hurt - how did I not know? (you must have thought me foolish - what fun for you) - lingers for a long time.

"He's always been like that, in case solving and everything else. I really should have expected no less."

The magazines are stacked and she pushes them to the side firmly.

"And that's the reason why,"

She turns to look up at you once more and a sardonic smile is back in place with the same mask of nonchalance.

"Do you think me petty for leaving them behind, all those people that have fought for me, risked their lives, cared for me and are worrying themselves to death about me – because of a small thing like that?"

"No, I don't."

Long after saying goodbye, you grew up and infiltrated the organisation. You found out about its dirty secrets and faced truths you didn't want to know of. You felt a similar sense of disbelief and betrayal. Elena, who was always so kind and caring, who bothered to patch up a little boy who was always getting into scrapes and getting in the way – she'd been a part of this. She was the smartest person he'd met, even now and she'd been foolish enough to get into something as big as that, as horrific as that.

The knowledge hurt as your idol shattered before your mind's eye. The warmth she still emitted in your heart strained under the raw horrors you faced everyday as an operative.

Why?

"Really? I'm being very selfish, and cowardly, by just running away and hiding with a stranger. Not facing reality, my destiny, not accepting responsibilities – you really don't think that I'm -"

"No. I really don't."

You were angry for a while. You had a right to. Angry at Elena, at yourself, at -

"It's your right to be angry at them Shiho-san. You had a right to know. They should've told you. They knew better. And if you're upset that they didn't say a word, and you don't want to see them – who's to tell you you're wrong?"

The mocking smile (for herself) she had moments ago disappears and she listens.

"It's your choice. Don't tell yourself how to feel because others want you to get over it and accept it without question."

"And what about the people worrying about me?"

But you still missed her. Your continued friendship with her daughter didn't change, even as your illusions broke and you lost comrades.

"Do you want to see them?"

"They'll be worried. I don't want them to be."

"Then you know what to do."

"I don't want to go back (to the FBI, to Edogawa-kun). Unless you're kicking me out."

You shake your head, "You can stay here as long as you like, Shiho-san. You don't have to go back."

"But, I do."

"Going back doesn't mean staying. You said you didn't want to worry them so going back is the natural option. And yes, you will have to face Akai and Conan-kun. But they can't force their choices onto you."

She looks at you, hard and contemplates.

"Why do you hate him?"

"Who?"

"You know who."

You hesitate, wondering what to say to her.

"Akemi was my friend."

"She's my reason for hating him."

"It doesn't mean it can't be mine."

"Did you love her then?"

It's such an unexpected, blunt question that you blink in disbelief.

"No, then. So why? Even if it's because of my sister, it's not the only reason. You wanted to hand him over to them, despite being on the same side."

"The same enemy doesn't mean that we're on the same side."

"Exactly."

"The same reason you do. Not just Akemi - the consequences of the actions he took a few years back had a similar impact on me as it did for you when she died. It's enough of a reason, don't you think?"

That's all you tell her for now. It's more than you've ever told anyone and she understands that.

"I want to go back. And sort things out."

* * *

Two weeks later, you're still in your grandmother's old house surrounded by your sister's books when there's a knock on the door.

You open it, and there she is, this time, with bags.

"I'm staying."

_Keep her safe._

* * *

You pull in all the favours you're owed in the service, push the buttons of your superiors and show off all your achievements to use in your negotiations. Your superiors have a look of distaste and disappointment on their features throughout the whole thing; but what can they do? They've leeched off your talents and some of your sanity; all in the name of the greater, public good (in that aspect, Bourbon and Furuya Rei are really not that different). It's the least they could do for you and you take all you get, leaving no loose ends and taking nothing back.

_Keep her safe._

I will. I promise.

A new life.

Of course, it's not a perfect solution. The truth is, there really isn't a solution. It's just one less complicated choice over the other. Starting over is relatively less complicated and by now, a lot of an easier choice that is not accompanied by moral dilemmas or consequences. There is the option of going back, but you know that you cannot take that. There's no 'going back'; there's nothing to go back to. All those friends and girlfriends, the tests and notes in class, casual conversations and fleeting moments of introspection, training and the gym, getting drunk and binge eating, the wannabes and would-not-bes -

They're all things of the past, gone, moved on, scattered or dead. The gap of a few years has made a chasm between you and the members of the past and even if you do choose to accept a place in that old life, pick up what you were, you won't be there long. You aren't who you were; you never will be.

So the only logical and possible option is to start a new one, a new everything.

You're standing in the station, jacket over an arm and surrounded by busy people. She sits on a suitcase, flipping through a newspaper that talks of the return of Kudo Shinichi, the saviour of the Tokyo Met. Police. She's dressed a la 50s Hollywood movie star in your sister's black dress (the one she bought on a whim on her sixteenth summer) that apparently fits her quite well. She's also wearing your sunglasses she's snatched from your jacket pocket the brief moment you went to check the train schedule.

The announcement for your train comes and you turn towards her, offering an arm. It's a question, a final one asking if she really wants to come. She's leaving again, her friends (the boy who was too clever for his own good among others) and the people she loves; does she really want to go?

She looks at it, at you and after a tick, takes it. You take the suitcase she's been sitting on and the two of you walk towards the platform.

Anyone who passed you'd think you as family, brother and sister going on a holiday.

Close enough.

* * *

"Why are you doing this for me?" she asks one afternoon, after coming back from school.

Perhaps she can't believe her luck. Or maybe it's that she doesn't believe that people could have such good will. Or maybe it's her instincts telling her not to trust polite people with kind smiles (they have the sharpest teeth).

It's a little late for that but late is better than never.

Yesterday, you talked of her choice to leave her former life. She had people that cared about her and people she cared for, yet she chose to go off with a stranger (with an official record of having been assigned to kill her.)

She said it was because she cared was that she left them. Tokyo had been the battleground for the final confrontation, (dramatic as it sounds) and despite the small amount of casualties that happened thankfully, the scars remained and danger lingered. The dark shadow that lingered over her life, and her friends' lives was gone, but the patches of it remained. Immediate threats were eradicated and she could sleep with her legs straight but little threats, (but still threats) were still there. Those took time to disappear and in all that time, she'd only grow fonder of her friends and they'd only be in more danger in relation to her.

The confrontation had hardened her and reshaped her sense of safety and self perception. She'd realised that she'd never be truly free of what she was and that it would come back to haunt, to hurt. She couldn't bear to lose anyone, any more and watching people die was something she'd had enough of.

She couldn't afford to have Kudo-kun 's (yes, he was Conan-kun, but that's another story for another afternoon) sense of 'everything will be all right' idealism - she had to face her reality.

"And," she said in a final tone as she hung her uniform jacket, and adjusting the name tag that read 'Haibara Ai' (love, not sorrow),"I judged that I had a better chance of survival with the Police Academy's top student/graduate and the PSA's top agent than Holmes jr, of the Modern era who's tripping over himself to date his childhood crush."

So she left them, left Beika. Time would pass and she'd be forgotten – and one day she'd go back, to see how they were.

That was yesterday; today's topic is centred on you and your benign motives.

You shrug; it's the most truthful answer as even now, you don't quite get why you're so driven to protect her. You tell yourself it's because of reasons; Elena's impact in your life during her brief presence and your friendship with Akemi. Both have a quite substantial weight in your heart and qualify as things that motivate you.

If you were to be a little more honest, perhaps it's your need to have the upper hand on Akai – childish, you know, but the satisfaction you get from it is good (so is the girl's hatred of him, though you try not to encourage that) if only temporary. Yes, you do get your kicks in spiting him but those little blows are the only form of retribution that you can inflict on him, punishment for killing your friend and letting Akemi die.

Perhaps it's your way of atoning, for all the people you've killed (out of necessity or choice; it doesn't matter, in the end it's all the same) and those you couldn't, didn't save. It's a way of recovering Rei (it's Amuro Tooru now, the only name you've liked out of the myriad you've taken on) the part of you that was, before you dived into the organisation.

By keeping this girl safe (not just because Akemi wanted you to), this girl who seems to be destined to be stuck in the dark forever because of forces beyond her control and due to some of her own choices, this girl who's always running away with so many still wanting her dead; maybe you can do something worthwhile, something actually good, in a long while.

_(We atone in different ways, I think, Akemi once remarked)_

So maybe your motives for taking this girl in aren't really selfless or from a sense of duty; they're very selfish. Maybe you think you can recover something you've forgotten (the you that laughed too loud, too long as Date clapped you on the back half-jokingly (only half, as he actually meant it) in exasperation for topping yet, another class -)

You shrug, because in all honesty you really don't know why you do all this; you just do. You haven't been able to explain it to yourself in all your attempts so how to do it for her?

Perhaps it's the girl herself who fascinates you, she, who looks at you unblinkingly now, waiting for an answer. (I gave you mine yesterday, now it's your turn.)

Her eyes are old, too worn and too depressed, even for her current 18 years she's aged prematurely. There's a sadness there that just is – it doesn't ask for sympathy or kind words; it asks to be left alone, to be. It's a calm, transcendent composure and you admire her for it to be able to keep that kind of tranquility despite everything.

You'll just have to look for answers along the way.

But she still requires an answer as it's not fair to keep her in the dark. She's shown you her share of trust by deciding to come along with you, be it because she wanted to protect her friends or because she hates the idea of being stuck with Akai. She must be sick of being passed from owner to owner like a doll.

Whatever the motives, they don't matter for now. It's the knowledge that she'll be safe she wants; it's what she needs to know.

You decide to be frank to her and tell her that you're paying back a debt (debt you feel for the kindness her mother showed you and the years you spent with Akemi). She looks slightly confused at the remark, and looks at you searchingly, accustomed to suspecting.

"What happens if this debt is paid off?"

"It's a debt that takes a long time to pay back. A very long time. I might not be able to pay it back my lifetime."

"Did my sister put you up to this?"

You consider showing her the text that you still keep, but knowing her character (her mother reincarnated in the most unexpected ways) you think best not to. She'll feel indebted when you don't wish her to and when she has no reason to.

"No. She asked, though. In case. But that's not the only reason"

"Then why?"

"I want to."

"Why? You don't owe me anything."

"Yes. I don't know. I guess we'll both have to find out."

She makes do with the answer for the moment and you leave the room as your phone rings. Somewhere, there's a radio being turned on and the sultry voice of the singer rings throughout the neighbourhood, through your ears.

* * *

A few mornings later, she's still here after that conversation you had and all those times she could have left.

She sits at the table, silently munching on her toast and prodding a boiled egg open. A mug of coffee is steaming quietly next to her and she's flicking through some of her school notes (mathematics, it seems). She looks up at you entering the small kitchen and points to the few slices of toast on the cooling rack. In that moment, she appears to be her real age; her actual eighteen years she's supposed to be. Not any older, not any younger. You remember your own sister at that age when she was loud and energetic, always sleepy due to school work and having a penchant for late night snacks.

She makes a gesture of 'put whatever you want onto the toast' and goes back to her notes.

It's Saturday and the sun is shining through the windows. The smell of fresh laundry lingers in the air and you realise that she must have done it, early in the morning. The slightly wet hem of her rolled up sleeves support this. Her feet are bare and swinging gently in mid-air.

You sit opposite her and the musings and problems of the last few days don't seem to matter. She's settled here and staying; the sentence is passed and what follows is in accordance to it.

"Is your hair naturally blonde?"

You're reaching for a slice of cheese when she asks that question, not even looking up.

"Why do you want to know?"

She shrugs, turning the page of her notes, "Simple curiosity."

"It's a long story."

You look for the lettuce and as if on cue, she closes her notes and textbook and produces a plate of sliced tomatoes, onions and lettuce. She pushes it towards you and places her books on the chair next to her. She folds her hands, propping her chin on them. She stares at you inquisitively, with good-humour that she sometimes displays, not the sardonic, cynical sort.

There's a slight smile on her lips.

"I have time."

* * *

**e/n:** Typos fixed (I,,, think?) and other things etc. Thank you marutaro for pointing it out!

Amuro's (Furuya!Furuya! Furuya! GAH) family history is yet to be revealed (probably because of some plot significance no doubt) so canonically, so far, he's an only child. But in my head-canon, he has a nice normal family and a younger sister who is nothing like him in the slightest and has absolutely zero interest in going into the public service and likes good food.

The title is from a favourite song of mine. The actual title is 'After the Play Ends' but I took out the 'ends' part.


End file.
